


Silvered Reflection

by Regann



Category: Once Upon A Time - Fandom
Genre: Character Study, F/M, Future, Gen, Introspection, Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-30
Updated: 2014-09-30
Packaged: 2018-02-19 10:26:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2384990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Regann/pseuds/Regann
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Regina finds the author of the magical tome. It's not anything like she expects, but there might be a few words of wisdom in the conversation. (Spoilers through the S4 premiere; minor Outlaw Queen)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silvered Reflection

**Author's Note:**

> This is an idea that came to me while I was watching the recent premiere, one that I know will be jossed soon but I couldn't help but wanting to write it out. That's what fic is for, right?

Regina stood in front of the mirror and took a deep breath. It had taken more work and more dedication than she had bargained for but she had found her way to the person responsible for the theft of every happy ending she'd had in her grasp. 

She’d found the author of the magic fairy tale book, the one that gave everyone what they wanted -- except her.

The mirror she used now was no small wall mirror like the ones she preferred to talk to Sidney through; no, this was a grand full-length mirror with a gilded frame, dug out of some dusty corner of Gold's shop and polished until its silvery surface shined. With the book under one arm, her will gathering, power firing through every vein, Regina lifted her hand out toward her own reflection and ordered the magic to show her what she wanted to see: show her the author of the book that caused her so much trouble.

She had tried this before, but to no avail; Sidney had been unable to summon this particular moment in time, no matter how hard she had pushed him. Now, however, she had boosted the limits of her own clairvoyance through spells and drams and potions, and had readied both herself and the mirror so that it would reflect what she needed to know. 

Step One: find the writer. Step Two: make the writer change her ending.

At her command, the mirror's surface began to smoke and swirl, roiling silver-edged clouds that blocked the ordinary reflection of what Regina had seen a moment before. No more "Madam Mayor" persona staring back at her, no dark-eyed, tight-lipped woman in a sleek linen dress and matching pumps. Only plumes of magic, summoning up her desires. 

The image cleared and she was looking into a room in what looked like a castle in the Enchanted Forest, dark stone and luscious drapes, a thin view of green tree-tops through the rounded window on the opposite wall. Between the mirror and the wall was a writing desk of rich wood, strewn with gold-set quills and ink pots, a seal and blocks of sealing wax, so red it matched Regina's lipstick. And in the middle sat the book, _the_ book, opened to an early page that clearly was not finished. 

She had found her author's work space, but not yet the author themselves. Regina, in her Storybrooke home, waited with impatience, arms crossed, making it that much harder to ignore her racing heart as it thumped against the book she now held tight to her breast.

Regina didn't have to wait long before she heard the sound of a heavy door open and close beyond the looking-glass. Mere seconds later, a dark-haired woman swept into view, dressed majestically in pearl-gray silk and stiff silver lace that made Regina wistfully yearn for her own regal gowns, lost to her in the mists of curses back and forth. The woman's back was to Regina and she could her heavy black hair in a matching net of silver and pearls, could see the lines of her shoulder and a sliver of pale skin. She seemed familiar and Regina continued to wait.

Finally, the woman turned toward the mirror and Regina's breath caught in her throat, in a strangled noise that never made it to air, because Regina was faced with the last person she would ever think would've penned the magic tome.

Regina...was looking at herself.

It wasn't herself _exactly_. The face that looked back at her, infuriatingly serene and knowing, was older although the age sat well on her features. There were streaks of silver in the midnight of her hair but it added maturity that she wore like a diamond cloak. The eyes were the same, black and snapping, and so was the mouth, red as blood, even as it smirked back at her, scar and all.

"Hello Regina," the older one said with all the dangerous humor of the Evil Queen. "I've been expecting you."

"What happened?" the younger one asked. "It was supposed to show me who wrote the book, not... _this!_."

"This and that happen to be one in the same," the older Regina replied. She gestured over her shoulder, back toward the desk. "Or did you not recognize the book that you're currently holding?"

Regina started, looking down as if she'd forgotten the book was in her hands. Then, as if it were on fire, she released it, tossing it onto the sofa behind her. "I know what that is but...something is wrong. I didn't write the book."

"You're right about that," the older Regina said. She turned away from the mirror and sat down at the desk, her pale skirts billowing out around her. "You didn't write it. _I_ did."

Regina continued to stare at the older vision of herself before her. She watched in mute disbelief as the woman dipped her quill into the ink and scratched words out to finish the page before she leaned in and blew across the still-drying ink. With a slide of her hand over its blank neighbor, an illustration appeared, although Regina could not see what it was of.

"This is outrageous and completely untrue!" she said. "Why would I -- you -- we write this book? It's the cause of all our problems!"

"No, Regina," the older one said. "We're the cause of all our problems. With a helping hand from our mother and Rumplestilskin. But mostly ourselves."

"How can you say that?"

The older version sighed and stood up. "Because it's true," she said, moving toward the mirror. "The sooner you realize that, the better off you'll be." She flicked her fingers toward Regina. "Trust me, I know."

Regina could feel something quaking in her heart, shaking her to the core. It was the well of rage and grief that she had once thought tamed, flared up again thanks to its most recent wound. A set of betrayals to overcome -- first, Robin's choice of Marian and then her own heart that dared to allow itself to feel again. And now another -- herself, standing there, telling her that she was the cause of everything horrible that had been visited upon her in her life. "How dare you," she growled.

The older Regina raised an eyebrow, obviously unimpressed. "How dare you?" she echoed. "I'm not just older than you. I'm wiser and more powerful. How else could I make the book do what it's done?"

"I still don't understand why," Regina choked out. "Why would you do this?"

For the first time in their conversation, the older Regina lost her coy expression. "We've done a lot of evil things in our lives," she explained. "There was a lot we needed to make up for."

"So guilt?" Regina scoffed. "Weak."

"For peace of mind," she corrected. "For the balance of our eternal scale. Out of a sincere desire to atone for the wrongs we've committed." A ghost of a smirk graced her lips. "I know you're not quite there yet."

She thought of Robin's hands, cradling her heart; of Henry's smile and his hugs and his voice calling her "Mom," and of the desperate desire inside to feel worthy of those moments after all the darkness she had inflicted on others. "Maybe I'm beginning to see," she admitted. "And you're right, we've -- I've -- there are things, perhaps, that need to be atoned for. In the long run."

The older Regina rolled her eyes. "Like I said, you're not quite there yet. But that's why I created it. To be the one who gave Emma and Henry the keys to undoing my curse. The problem and the solution."

It was the younger Regina's turn to raise an eyebrow. "Why am I not surprised that ego still weighs into this?"

"Because you know yourself better than you think you do." The older woman waved a hand at her younger self. "You've got your answer and there's no way to force me to change it -- you'd only lose if you tried. So run along and I'll see -- well, be -- you in a few decades." With that, Regina headed back to the desk in a flourish of skirts where she settled down and once again dipped her pen in the ink well. Her younger self watched as the quill glided along the parchment's surface. She had clearly been dismissed but one question still bubbled up in her mind.

"Why didn’t you write us a happy ending?" 

The authoress paused, before setting aside her quill. "Because it wasn't about changing my life, it was about undoing the damage I had done to Snow and Charming and everyone else."

"So that's it? We don't get a happy ending ever?" Regina swallowed at the thought, the one that had torn at her for decades. "We'll never deserve to be happy?"

"Oh Regina," the older one as she stepped back to the mirror. Despite the differences in age and attire, she copied Regina's posture perfectly until it was almost actually like she was seeing her own reflection. "I didn't say that."

"So we do?"

"I didn't say that, either," her older self said.

"Then make yourself clear," she snapped.

"We'll never have happy endings like those in the book," Regina said. "You need to make peace with that."

"Because villains don't get happy endings."

"Because we're not like all those other people," she argued. "No one in that book, other than Rumple, ever had the kind of darkness we had inside us. It makes the light sweeter, but it'll always be bittersweet for us. We'll never be pure and uncomplicated, like Snow or Belle, so our happiness will never be that uncomplicated. You'll have to fight for it and keep fighting, every day."

"You sound like Emma."

"She'll surprise you," the older queen said. "And she was right. You can't give up now."

Regina raised a hand to her chest. "But it hurts."

"I know," her counterpart said with the sadness of understanding in her eyes. "You're on your way to your own kind of happiness. You've already let the light in; don't shut it out."

"I don't know if I can," Regina admitted. "It's so easy to go back."

The older Regina, resplendent in her finery, laid her hand against the glass until the younger one could see the lines of her palm where it pressed against it. "You can," she said. "You have living proof right in front of you. Let me show you."

She took a step forward, unsteady on her sensible pumps, but she followed the unspoken command and laid her hand so that it covered the older one's. For a second, it was only cool glass but then she felt a warmth and then the tickle of magic. Between one breath and another, she saw the light magic curling around her, up her arm until it made it to her chest where her heart beat, wrapping around it like a cooling balm that soothed a little of grief, enough that she could breathe. 

"We're strong," her older self said. "We can survive anything. And you never know what might happen in the future."

That was when Regina noticed the necklace around the older woman's neck, so simple compared to the lavish gown and pearl-studded headdress. It was silver, complimenting the gray sheen of her gown, and the dainty pendant lay just against her throat, like a caress. It was in the shape of a small arrow.

"Good bye, Regina," the authoress said as she dropped her hand and stepped back. She gave her one last smile before she made a sweeping gesture with her arm and the image Regina had been watching was gone in another cloud of silvery smoke. When it cleared, there was only her, as she was now, in her linen dress and matching pumps, hands shaking ever so slightly.

She absolutely did not raise those shaking fingers to wipe tears from her face. 

In the silence, Regina turned and picked up the book, looking at its worn cover before she crossed over to the book shelf and nestled it between the other books lined up there. It looked incongruous next to the slick mass-produced bindings of books from this world but Regina didn't mind. She had a feeling the book wouldn't be there for long before it conjured itself to wherever it was needed.

Just like she knew if she ever needed it again, it would find its way back to her.

With a snap, she doused the lights of the room and exited, leaving the mirror to glint its silver secrets into the darkness.


End file.
